


Something Spontaneous, Like Combustion

by janiejanine



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 18:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3219485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janiejanine/pseuds/janiejanine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He says "I missed you." She says "Prove it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Spontaneous, Like Combustion

Judith waited a respectable amount of time before seeking Cullen out. She didn’t want to appear too eager, and besides, he was a man of habit—he’d most likely be in his office at this time of day. Easy to find.

She hated being unsure. They’d shared a few kisses and then she’d had to leave, and then, as before, any interaction between them could only happen in her head. He’d featured in her dreams for some months, but now it was different; now she  _knew_ what his mouth felt like against her neck and the sound of his voice when he whispered her name. Nice as those kisses had been—and they had been terribly romantic—it had only been one afternoon. She hoped for many more afternoons, and evenings, and, with any luck, mornings.

She wondered how often he thought of her.

Her heart raced with anticipation, and a touch of nerves. The weeks away had passed in a haze of pleasant daydreams, now deliciously blended with memories, but as the time went by, tiny, niggling doubts plagued her. What if he’d changed his mind? What if it meant more to her than it did to him? She thought she knew him better than that, but everything was going too well. The other shoe had to drop sometime. Things didn’t just… _work_.

The door opened too quietly. He was there, just as she remembered, pen in one hand, the other pushing back his hair, glaring at the paper in front of him and not noticing her presence at all. She coughed.

“You’re back!” He stood up so quickly his chair almost toppled backwards. He caught it and righted it, turning faintly pink.

“Yes, I…hello,” she said. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Was it too late to leave the room and start again?

Whatever was going to happen, she would know it now, for good or ill. She crossed the floor in a few quick strides, dug her fingers into the fur of his collar, and pulled him down until his lips met hers.

He gave a small  _oof_  of surprise, then his arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her in closer. It had been so long, she’d almost begun to feel like she’d imagined the whole thing. But here he was, warm and real, and kissing her with an enthusiasm that assured her her worries had been for nothing. She reached up, seeking out his bare skin, and when her thumb brushed his jaw he leaned into her touch like a cat.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her lips.

A little shiver went up her spine, and the corner of her mouth curled upward. Some people responded to praise and some to challenge, and she knew which kind he was. “Prove it,” she said.

His eyebrows went up, but only for a second, before he sat down in the chair and took her hands, tugging her into his lap. She recognized his smirk—it was the one he got when he was about to win.

His lips traced a slow line from her shoulder to her throat to her mouth. He deepened the kiss, tongue in her mouth, hands around her waist like he was trying to ground himself. He was always so careful to keep himself under control, but here, with her, he didn’t have to, and if there was a way to tell him that through kisses, she would.

His calloused fingers ran up the sensitive skin of her back. She tried to press herself closer and undo her laces without breaking lip contact, with limited success.  _Did we lock the door?_  she wondered, and then her shirt was gone and his mouth was hot on her breast and she no longer cared if the door was locked or unlocked or had a lock at all.

He kissed her like it was sex itself, like it could be enough--but he was hard against her, and she rolled her hips, slow and deliberate, drawing a low, desperate noise from the back of his throat. Their clothes couldn’t come off fast enough; she wanted to strip away the layers between them, run her hands over the muscles of his shoulders, feel the beat of his heart and close the space until it was just the length of him along the length of her.

She’d had plans for him, on her return. Careful, detailed plans in which they’d take it slow, learn, explore. Enticing plans that had kept her awake for more nights than she cared to admit. Plans that were, at this moment, cast aside, crumpled up on the floor next to her pants.

All he had to do was put his hands on her and she’d be lost. She should have remembered that.

His fingers made an intimate trail down her sides, over her hips. She guided his hand between her legs, needed him to feel how much she wanted this, and he groaned when he felt the wetness there. “ _Please_ ,” he said, his voice so full of longing it made her breath catch.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He pushed into her and she gasped, rocked against him, felt him move, matching her. She lifted herself up just a bit, shifting her hips; there was a perfect angle, if they could only find it—

 _Oh_. She cried out and his grip tightened, holding her steady. His mouth on hers, muffling her sighs,  _please, don’t stop, don’t stop_ , and him, breathless, promising  _I won’t_.

It seemed like only seconds before she dug her fingers into his back, buried her face in his shoulder to stifle her moans as she came, tight around him. A few quick, hard thrusts and he followed her, whole body tensing, then relaxing, holding her close with a shaky hand.

She laughed, lightheaded and giddy, as he pressed a kiss just above her collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He shivered as her breath ghosted over his ear. “What for?”

“I didn’t mean to be so loud.” Her smile was rueful. “I’d planned to save that for somewhere less public.”

“You were incredible.”

“So were you. As I’m sure you gathered.”

He chuckled. “I did get that impression, yes.”

“You look entirely too pleased with yourself.”

“If it helps, I’m also pleased with you.”

“I would hope so.” She draped herself over him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his skin. Gradually, outside sounds began to filter in again: wind whipping past the battlements, shouts from the yard, a distant tolling from the Chantry’s tower.

Cullen’s brow furrowed. “How many bells was that?” he asked.

“Five, I think. Why?” Judith replied, nestling closer.

“I have a meeting.”

She sat up. “ _What?_  Right now?”

“A few minutes ago,” he said, with dawning horror.

“Oh, no,” she whispered. Disentangling her legs, she moved to gather some of their scattered clothing, groaning as she fished her shirt out from under the desk. Everything seemed to have wandered into the unlikeliest of places. They got dressed with a speed usually reserved for imminent dragon attacks, cursing the laces, buttons, and buckles that no longer seemed so necessary.

“Is that everything?” he asked, scanning the room.

“I think so—wait! Come here.” She reached up and smoothed the hair back from his face, patting it into place. “There. Professional again.”

He caught her hand and drew her in closer, lightly brushing her lips with his. As they broke apart, she was pretty sure they were both smiling like fools. She thought she must be radiating waves of happiness like sunbeams, and she wished she could spend the next few hours basking in it—but duty called.

She gave his hand a final squeeze and opened the door. A small cluster of soldiers were standing on the other side, the one in front’s fist raised to knock.

He bowed. “Inquisitor,” he said.

“Good afternoon,” she said, and swept regally past them onto the wall-walk. As they made their way inside, she turned and caught Cullen’s eye, and flashed a wide, unrepentant grin.


End file.
